Deal With a Devil
by SummersDayDream
Summary: Alone and outcast, one girl will do anything for a friend. When a stranger offers her the one thing she craves, she jumps at the chance of a companion. But the cost is more than she thought.


**A/N: Hi! I'm not dead, I promise. So, this is actually a project for English where we had to write a "modern day deal with the devil" type story. And me being me, I immediately thought Black Butler. This may or may not become a full series.**

Feet pounding on grass, then blacktop. Tears in my eyes, running down my cheeks, flowing more freely than they had art grandmother's funeral. Spitballs and spaghetti sauce in my hair, and hateful words filling my ears.

 _Freak_

 _Spaz_

 _Clumsy freak._

The taste of rejection bitter in my mouth.

After stalling all week, I had finally worked up the courage to ask my crush to homecoming. It would be perfect. I had everything planned, from what I wore (blue sweater, grey pants, and my high heeled boots), to what the cafeteria served that day. I had memorized a script. I was ready for my happily ever after to start.

And in one glorious move, I had tripped, spilled my lunch all over, then gibbered out a string of words that barely resembled English. Not a fairytale at all. Now, sitting under a tree in the forest across from the high school, I replayed the scene in my mind.

*Flashback*

Lunch hour at our school. The cafeteria was serving spaghetti, and _he_ loved spaghetti . I grabbed my tray, then headed to the outside commons area, where I knew _he'd_ sit. When I saw _him,_ I started to reconsider.

" _Go!"_ The brave part of me said. _"_ Stop being such a chicken."

The chicken part shook her head. "You know, I think I could use the time to study."

The brave part won. With a determined sigh, I started to move in _his_ direction. I stumbled but caught myself, then picked my way between tables. To get to where _he_ was sitting, I had to walk past the Art Club, the jocks, and worst of all, the popular girls. With their designer purses and gigantic egos, they took up two whole tables.

Many of their bags were on the ground, which is how I managed to trip over a $10,000 Prada satchel and upset my carefully balanced lunch tray. The fake-tomato sauce spilled over the girls' fancy hair and name brand mini skirts. Almost as one body, the populars rose and screeched.

 _"HOW COULD YOU!?"_

I started to stand, only to put my boot on a stray noodle and slip. My hands were cut from the rough pavement, and I was pretty sure I had bruised at least one of my knees. A film of tears clouded my vision, and for a second I didn't see the hand offered to me.

"Hey," _his_ voice was soft and kind. "Are you okay?"

 _He_ pulled me to my feet, being very careful of my scratched hands. Then _his_ smile dropped, and he rounded on the gaggle of seething girls.

"And you! How many times do you have to be told! Keep your bags under the table."

Both tables offered several half hearted apologies. Satisfied that the situation was under control, _he_ turned back to _his_ friends.

"Wait!" I called, then cringed at the squeak in my voice.

 _He_ turned back around a slight smile on _his_ face. "Yes?"

"Um… Wouldyouliketogotohomecomingwithme?" I babbled out quickly.

 _His_ smile grew bigger, but before he could answer, a wall of spaghetti spattered girls surrounded him, the owner of the Prada bag in front.

"He'd never want to go anywhere with you. Now get lost, loser."

*End Flashback*

Now, I sat in the dark woods, waiting for my tears to stop so I could head back to campus. Suddenly, a shadow fell over me.

"Well, what do we have here?"

I look up through my lashes, half expecting the girls from the commons to have come after me. Instead, a man stood in front of me. He was pale, with dark hair and strange eyes that were almost red. Even stranger were his clothes. He was wearing a suit, almost looking like a man out of the Victorian era. He sat down next to me, and I edged away.

"Don't be scared, child. I won't hurt you." His voice was gentle and deep.

"What," my voice caught in my throat and I tried again. "What do you want?"

The man looked amused and a little insulted, like I had asked a stupid question.

"Why, to help you, of course. I could give you anything you want."

I snort. "I don't want anything. Except…." I trail off. There's no point in complaining to a stranger about my complete inability to socialize.

"What, child?"

I blush. "A friend. Or at least someone I can talk to."

"Well," the man said, "I don't think I'm exactly what you were considering, but I have been told I am a sparkling conversationalist."

His offer sounds to good to be true, which makes me suspicious. My father is a businessman, and I would watch as he tried to close deals. One thing I'd learned, as my mother says is ' there's no such thing as a free lunch.' I've never found that to be wrong.

"And what's in it for you?" I ask the man.

He fidgets slightly. "Nothing much. Just… your soul."

"You're joking." I say, chuckling. "You are joking, right?"

"No, my dear. I am quite serious. When you die, I will consume your soul."

Suddenly, the forest seems a lot colder. I wanted a friend, but was I willing to sell my soul for one?

"Will it hurt?"

His head snaps over to me. "What?"

"When you eat my soul, will it hurt me?" I want all the details before I make my choice.

"Oh." He relaxes. "No. If I want it to be gentle, it will be. Any other questions?"

Surprisingly, I don't have any. I'd never been very religious, and having my soul- consumed- didn't seem any worse than the nothing I thought happened after death.

"Alright." I say. "I'll do it, but I want your promise that you'll let me die of old age, and not try to kill me or anything."

The man stands and helps me up. Then he places his hand over my heart. The skin there grows warm, then hotter, almost becoming unbearable. When he pulls away, I tug down the collar of my shirt to look at the mark now tattooed on my skin. It looks like a star in a circle, and is actually very pretty.

"Well, as it seems we're going to be spending some time together, I'd like to know your name."

My request seems to catch my new friend by surprise, and he thinks for a moment before replying, with a slight smirk on his face.

"You can call me Sebastian."

 **A/N : Soooooooo, thoughts? Likes, hates, what?! Please review! Cookies for reviews!**

 **Also, my other story may be a while. I'll try to update soon, but my muse ran off and won't come back. Please don't kill me. _*Dodges thrown objects*_**


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